


warden

by silkinsilence



Series: Femslash February 2020 [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkinsilence/pseuds/silkinsilence
Summary: ‍Shaw is benched on account of an injury, and Root takes it upon herself to nurse her the best way she knows how.‍
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Series: Femslash February 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621666
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	warden

**Author's Note:**

> unfortunately I haven't actually watched poi in a while, so I hope the voices aren't too far off. ☹

“You’re stewing, Sameen.”

The chipper voice of her constant pain-in-the-ass sounds from several shelves over. Shaw squeezes her eyes closed and drums her fingers along the armrest of Finch’s chair. She’s of half a mind to _accidentally_ spill coffee on his elaborate setup here. He should be the one at the desk and she should be the one with Reese in the field. Yes, her dominant arm is broken in two places and pinned in a cast, but she’s done more with worse. And like rubbing salt in the wound, Finch even took Bear along, the only thing that makes this place worth tolerating.

“When am I not,” she mutters.

Root appears abruptly around the corner,  holding a paperback and wearing an expression of such saccharine sympathy that Shaw’s fantasies of coffee-throwing  immediately  find a new target. 

“It’s not good for you to keep things bottled up,” Root says, her tone matching her face. She’s wearing her glasses, and they suit her, but the leather jacket and black nail polish detracts from the librarian look.

“That’s what the job’s for. Good stress relief.”

“Well, we don’t want you getting stressed out.” Root walks slowly toward her while holding the book open in one hand and thumbing through it. Shaw catches sight of the sky-blue cover and some smiling model on it, and she manages to make out the word _Mindfulness_ emblazoned across it. She refrains from rolling her eyes only because she knows it will encourage Root, who is incorrigible enough without encouragement. 

“It could aggravate your fragile condition,” Root continues, glancing sympathetically toward Shaw’s cast. “And as your concerned caregiver—”

“Warden.”

“—I need to keep your stress levels down.”

“Then give me a gun and let me out of here.”

“How’s your head? Stress can cause headaches, insomnia...”

“Root, _I went to medical school._ ”

“But I didn’t, and I’m learning so much.” Root turns a page and gives a dramatic gasp. Her eyes are alight with amusement. “Stress can dampen sex drive. How’s yours?”

It’s pretty straightforward, even for her. Shaw sighs and wonders how long it’ll be until Finch calls and asks them to do something useful, and then Root’s attentions will be diverted from tormenting her. 

They haven’t been alone together in a while.

“Haven’t had any complaints,” she deadpans.

“No?” Root drops the book; it lands pages-down and awkwardly fanned on the floor. Finch will come back irate to find one of the library’s items, even one as fluffy as that, mistreated so. Shaw likes that idea, and she likes the way Root’s pants hug her legs as she crosses the remaining distance, and she likes the way the light bounces off Root’s glasses.

She is a soldier. She is stoic. She will not encourage Root.

Root perches on the desk and brings up one of her legs to rest her combat-booted foot between Shaw’s knees. They both look at that foot, and when Shaw looks up at Root her smile is different now.

A smile like the first time they met.

Shaw closes her eyes again and breathes forcefully out through her nose.

“As your _warden_ , it’s my responsibility to take care of you,” Root says, and leans forward to pluck a loose hair from Shaw’s tank top.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Fortunately, I know just the thing for stress.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Shaw says flatly, her attention drifting between Root’s smile and her foot, positioned innocently and yet not-at-all innocently between her legs.

“Would you like an orgasm, Sameen?” Root cocks her eyebrow and licks her lips.

Shaw is a soldier. She is also human. And Root is a pain in the ass and a thorn in the side and a constant headache and hot and very good with her mouth.

Shaw grits her teeth and tightens her jaw and nods once, stiffly, like she’s agreeing to having her injured arm amputated.

Root laughs and needs no more invitation. In an instant she’s slipping off the desk and kneeling; Shaw instinctively spreads her legs to accommodate her between them. Root doesn’t stop grinning, and there’s something infuriatingly endearing about that, about how being permitted to touch Shaw makes her fucking day.

“Not gonna warm me up?” Shaw asks, shifting her weight down and sliding forward in the chair. Root’s hands are already impatient on the buttons of Shaw’s pants.

“I thought you liked it hard and fast,” Root purrs, the cruel spark in her eye affirming that she, too, is thinking of that memorable night a few months ago where she was wearing the strap-on and Shaw was...well. Enjoying it.

But Root’s preferences of teasing and torture have not abandoned her, and when she has Shaw’s pants down to her knees she presses her face hungrily between her thighs and mouths at Shaw’s (functional, black) underwear. The glasses are somehow even sexier when she’s on her knees looking up.

Shaw tightens her good hand on the armrest. She plants her heels firmly on the ground and moves against Root’s mouth. Root laughs softly against her, finds her clit through the cloth and nips at it. Shaw grinds her teeth together and manages not to push _hard_ against Root the way she wants to.

Root pulls aside the fabric without bothering to pull her panties down, and her mouth is hot and wet and perfect and Shaw thinks that this is what Finch gets if he wants to bench her; she’ll do this on his chair—

Her phone, sitting on the desk, begins buzzing.

Shaw mutters an oath and glances over. It’s Finch, obviously, him or Reese.

She doesn’t want to answer, but she also doesn’t want them to make inferences about _why_ she doesn’t answer—

Root has lifted her hands to firmly grip her thighs, and her mouth closes around Shaw’s clit and she begins sucking. One glance down at her tells Shaw she’s not going to stop, and she decides that Reese and Finch can infer whatever the hell they want.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always appreciated!


End file.
